Ghosts of Nostalgic's Past
by MiLady Oakenshield
Summary: After Loki and Thor return to Asgard, Steve rides off to find an old friend and discovers a long kept secret


A modified 1940 Harley Davidson pulled up outside a three-story brick town house on 4th street, the rider pulling out a small sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolding it to read the address scribbled in black pen. Double checking the address on the side of the mail box, he was confident he had the right house. Folding the top of the paper down, he shoved it back into his right pocket then pushed the kick stand down and dismounted the bike. He turned to look up at the building and immediately felt his heart throwing itself against his ribcage.

_You've been asleep, Cap. For nearly seventy years. _The words playing over and over in his head. What if she didn't recognize him? She'd be in her nineties by now, at least. Age does things to the mind. What he thought was a friend could in fact turn out to be someone he no longer could see. She might look away. And there was dementia, which he heard was quite a powerful thing. It could take apart a person's mind; force them to forget things, like old lovers, faces – names.

Steve Rogers swallowed his self-doubt and proceeded. He gripped the metal handrail and ascended the three-step staircase to the tiny porch with only a small table and chair set to his right. Shaking the cobwebs from his brain, he made his hand into a fist and knocked twice on the hard wood door. Everything about his posture betrayed how he was truly feeling. Nervous had never been such an issue for him. He was able to ignore them completely when faced with death. But blood hammered so vigorously in his ears that it was hard to ignore anything. He was certain his heart would pound itself out of his chest.

The waiting was not so agonizing. The door opened just a small crack at first, forcing Steve to momentarily hold back his breath, then fully and he suddenly remembered how to breathe again. A woman with blonde hair curling over her shoulders and at least five or six inches high above five feet stood in the doorway. The first thing he noticed was a striking similarly to her eyes.

The blonde woman arched a brow at Rogers. "Can I help you?" She couldn't have been anymore than thirty or so, and she did age well. Beautiful in face.

"Y-Yes…" He sputtered. "Does a… Margaret Carter live here?" That was her real name, but everyone just called her Peggy for short. That was how she preferred it.

"Yes." The woman's brow lowered, and her hardened look softened. "Who are you?"

"Ma'am, I- "

From behind the woman, another voice shot out, "Who's at the door?" The voice was laced with a heavy British accent, though weighed down considerably over the last sixty some-odd years.

Steve forgot how to breathe again. No amount of years could make him forget that voice.

The woman at the door looked over her right shoulder. "Someone here to see you!" With the effort put behind her voice, it wasn't impossible to figure out the older woman was hard of hearing.

There was movement coming from the hallway. The closer the sound of a cane on the hard wood floor became, the more Steve's heart pounded. Then a shadow appeared behind the woman standing in front of him, who took a small side step as the elderly woman appeared.

Her brunette hair, now white as snow with a touch of grey, stopped short of her ear lobes. Her beautiful face now wriggled in every which way. And she was a tad short than he remembered but that could be attributed to the slouch of her shoulders.

His breathing slowed. "Margaret Carter?"

"Yes?"

"…Peggy Carter?" His voice so soft and comforting.

"…"

"Ma'am, my name is- "

Peggy gasped suddenly, eyes widening slightly. "…Steve?" Her eyes watered, swimming with so many memories hitting her all at once. Nothing about him had been lost on her.

The much younger blonde woman who answered the door now looked just as confused and bewildered as she did the second she came to the door. "Grandmother, you know this man?"

Grandmother? So, she had moved on.

"Jessica, go make us some tea will you?" Peggy asked.

The woman disappeared down the hall again, leaving just Steve and Peggy to themselves. Peggy turned away from where her granddaughter vanished to and set her eyes on Steve, just the same as she last saw him. Handsome as ever. She reached a hand forward to touch his face as tears spilled over her eyelids. Steve lifted a hand to touch the back of hers and smiled, his own tears marring his flesh.

Her wrinkled fingers brushed some of his tears away. "You haven't aged a day," she quipped. "You're exactly as I remember you. Still so handsome."

"I've missed you."

After a beat, "Come in will you?"

…...

Jessica Downey, as Steve learned, came forward to the kitchen table with a kettle of hot water. She poured an ample amount in each of the three ceramic mugs, enough to fill them to the edge, and then looked up to Steve with a smile as he nodded a thank you. She returned the kettle to the stove just as Peggy wobbled in with her cane in one hand and a small box in the air.

"My grandmother has told me so many stories about you when I was growing up," she said as she returned to the table and pulled a chair out for herself. Times had changed. Women didn't always expect men to pull out chairs for them or hold a door open for them anymore. "You're quite famous in my family." She smiled to him as she sat down then immediately reached for her mug.

Peggy set the box down on the table. "Howard never did give up looking for you." She opened the box to reveal quite a few newspaper clippings over the years.

Steve leaned forward and picked through the clippings. Naturally, there were several pertaining to the war and a few wars after that. Howard Stark's research, events in history, discoveries – things like that. Then he picked up one with a title that caught his attention.

Howard Stark and his wife killed in a crash, leaving behind a son; Anthony Stark. Steve's heart was in his throat again. He never knew. All that time at Tony's side and he never knew – he knew both father and son, and was only now realizing how much Tony acted like his father.

Peggy caught his look and frowned. "We were all very devastated when Howard died. After you di- after you disappeared, he and I became very close. Howard was, and still is, my friend." It pained her even to this day to talk about it. "His son and I still keep in contact from time to time."

Jessica leaned forward. "Is it true what I've heard? Were you really frozen in ice?"

"Jessie!"

Steve smirked. "When I woke up, I was in a hospital room SHIELD constructed to look like one from my era, to make me feel more at home. Their mistake was playing a radio broadcast of a baseball game I was at many months before that. It's how I knew their get-up wasn't real." He lifted the mug to his lips and tilted it back.

Then another voice, one much younger, cried out, "Mommy!"

Arching his brows, Steve lowered the mug to the table and looked over to the doorway into the living room to see a young boy, not much older than five years of age, come running into the kitchen. Jessica turned in her chair to see the child bounding towards her.

She lowered her mug and twisted her chair a bit as the child climbed into her lap. "I thought I told you to stay in the living room watching your cartoons?"

The child nestled himself in her lap. "Cartoons are over." He threw his tiny arms around his mother's neck, then looked across the table to Steve and frowned. "Mommy, who is that man?"

"This is a friend of your great grandmother's." Jessica almost chuckled at the expression on Steve's face. "This is my son, Steven."

"Nice to meet you," Steve smirked. "Steven huh? That's my name too. Your mother must have good taste."

Jessica's face flushed. "Stevie, what do you say to Mr. Rogers?"

"Thank you!" He cried out, and Steve chuckled. "Mommy named me after my great grandpa!" The boy seemed much livelier than he did when he first showed up.

"She did?" And at that moment, Steve's dark eyes flipped between the child's small frame, the woman holding him and the woman he once loved. He caught to change in her subtle expression.

Peggy coughed. "Uh, Jessie, why don't you take Stevie into the living room?" She looked away from the man sitting across from her to her granddaughter and great grandson. "I'll be along in a minute."

"Is everything okay?" Jessica asked.

"Yes."

Jessica pushed her chair back and carried her son into the living room. After watching them go, Peggy turned back to Steve then started pushing herself to her feet, albeit with some struggle. Steve jumped to his feet and round the table, putting his hands on her elbows to assist her to her feet. Peggy thanked him then used her cane to help her reach a drawer in the far corner of the kitchen. Inside with a frail, old picture, obviously warn, that had seen better days. Closing the drawer, Peggy walked over to Steve and hesitantly held out the picture to him.

Taking the picture in hand, Steve drew it closer to him and studied it in detail. The man in the picture looked very handsome indeed, a striking resemblance to the man looking at the picture. The man in the picture was dressed in an Army man's uniform and in his arms was a newborn baby girl, a much younger version of the woman Steve met just a few minutes ago. He swallowed a tiny lump in his throat and willed his heartbeat to slow. He turned the picture over to the back and read the date. This was taken just before the Vietnam War.

The names on the back read as Robert Carter with his daughter, Jessica Carter. Steve flipped the picture over in his hand again and looked at Peggy, whose eyes had again watered with fresh tears. Feeling guilt, Steve frowned sadly and used the underside of his right thumb to brush away the tears that had split.

Peggy reached up and grabbed his hand. "Shortly after you disappeared, I discovered I was pregnant. I considered seriously about giving him up but then I met a soldier from the war who said he knew you. He stayed with me and we fell in love." She didn't notice Steve eyeing the picture again. "Bobby grew up believing Christopher was his father. I didn't tell him until Jessica was born."

Steve dropped his hand from the side of Peggy's face and closed his eyes. "I have a son…" His voice choked on the sobs in his throat.

Opening his eyes, Steve looked away from Peggy to peer into the living room at Jessica and Steven playing with the boy's toys and smiling. He realized now what they meant to him. He was looking at his family; his granddaughter, who looked every bit like him and his great grandson, who looked every bit like Peggy.

Peggy followed his line of vision. "She is under the impression her grandfather was killed in the war." She looked down at the floor, feeling an overwhelming pang of guilt welling up in her chest.

Steve put a hand under her chin. "I don't blame you for moving on with your life. You have obviously done very well for yourself. I only wish I could have known him."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be." He leaned forward and kissed her brow. He opened her hand and set the picture against her palm, only for her to give it back to him.

Peggy shook her head. "Keep it. This is your family."

"Thank you."

She looked back to the living room. "You should go join them."

Steve looked to the living room and back to Peggy, smiling. He pressed a kiss to her brow again then slipped from the kitchen into the second room and immediately sat down cross-legged on the floor, asking what they it was they were playing. Little Steven looked up at him and handed him G.I Joe figure. Steve laughed to himself at the miniature version of Captain America.

He could get used to this.

**A/N:** _I suspected that's where Steve went at the end of The Avengers. He went to find Peggy. Well, this was my version of what happened. Take it as you will. And reviews are welcome._

_I'm still working on my other stories, but this idea had been in the back of my mind now for quite some time and I just had to get it out._


End file.
